


Steep with Me

by stellarbisexual



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Banter, Eddie owns a tea shop, Fluff, M/M, Radio DJ Richie Tozier, Romantic Comedy, Sort Of, really just an excuse to showcase my tea whore tendencies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:40:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17406248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarbisexual/pseuds/stellarbisexual
Summary: Eddie owns a tea shop.  Richie comes in to buy tea.  That's pretty much it.





	Steep with Me

The first thought Richie has when he walks into the new tea shop in his neighborhood is: _This place is way too nice for me to be in._ In fact, he almost turns heel and walks right out.  It’s probably a carryover from when he was a kid, he thinks; his mom’s catchphrase could have been, _God, Richie_ (as she gathered up shards of glass or porcelain), _you’re like a bull in a china shop._

But before he can avoid trashing the place, a sweet, raspy voice calls, “Be right with you!” from the back.  

That alone wouldn’t have stopped him from bolting; it’s when the man behind the voice reveals himself that Richie decides maybe there’s no harm in browsing around.  

“Good morning,” the man chirps, drying his freshly washed hands with a tea towel, folding it neatly, and throwing it over one of his shoulders.  

Richie takes one look at the guy and feels like he’s been slapped in the face with his own attraction.  He isn’t particularly uniquelooking, at least not on the surface--more attractive in an everyman kind of way--but there’s something quirky about the way he carries himself, the spark in his amber eyes that Richie can see all the way from the shop’s entrance.  Everything about the guy just reels him right in. It’s been years since he’s felt anything like it.

“Hello there, my good fellow,” Richie says, mocking a grand royal greeting with an elaborate twirl of his wrist.  As he approaches the counter, he realizes the man is slight but sturdy, definitely strong, firm shoulders underneath his crisp olive green button-down.  

The guy braces both hands on the countertop and leans enticingly to punctuate Richie’s realization, offering him a smile that’s more of a smirk.  “What can I do for you?”

Richie clears his throat.  “My mom’s birthday is tomorrow--”

“Just in time,” the guy manages to squeeze in.

Richie’s jaw drops playfully.  “ _Hey:_ this whole visit was premeditated, I’ll have you know.  I’ve been planning on coming in here for her gift since you opened last month.”

“Okay,” the guy chirps again.

“Alright,” Richie says, playing the game, pretending to abandon his story and his task, starting to rebutton his coat.  “Well, it was nice meeting you. There’s a Teavana just a few blocks that way, right?” He even goes so far as to start walking out.  

This makes the man duck his head and chuckle--and if the rest of it hadn’t already knocked Richie on his ass, his gorgeous smile would have.  It’s so gorgeous he nearly says so right there, but he figures he should probably pace himself. _Bull in a china shop._

“I’m just kidding.  She likes tea?”

“ _Loves it._ Earl grey, specifically.”

“Hmmmm.”  The man’s already spun around, eyeing the wall lined with beautiful glass tea tins.  There’s a sliding ladder, which he mounts in order to better zip up, down, and around the wall, gathering tins and setting them out in a perfect line-up on the counter in front of Richie.  

Richie rests his chin in his hand.  “Quite the workout, huh?”

The man either ignores or doesn’t pick up on his flirtation.  “Better than rock climbing,” he laughs, breath a little labored.  When he’s finally done, he rejoins Richie at the counter, pushing a hand back through his soft brown hair to right it.  “Okay. So these,” he waves his hand over the first four tins, “are all earl greys.”

“Get outta here.”

The man giggles again.  “They are. And these,” he taps the top of the next three tins with his index finger, “are sort of in the earl grey flavor family.”

“Say that five times fast.”

“I’m already overcaffeinated; I think that would be a disaster.”

Richie grins, watching patiently as the guy explains--in surprising detail--everything about the seven teas, nearly tripping over his words once or twice because, true to what he’d said, he _has_ probably had a little too much caffeine.  After he’s done, Richie gives a simple shrug.  “I’ll take ‘em all.”

The guy looks somewhat alarmed.  “...Seriously?”

“Is that not allowed?  I _am_ new to fancy tea etiquette.”

“ _No!_ ”  He scrambles to find gift wrapping.  “That’s _absolutely_ allowed.  Just… not what I expected.”

“Well, with Richie Tozier, you can always expect the unexpected.”

“ _Richie Tozier_ …”  He tilts his head.  “Why do I know that name?”

“Ever listen to the radio?”

“Not really.  Wait. _Oh my God._ My friend Mike listens to your show religiously.  He’s obsessed with it. _You’re_ Richie Tozier?”

“Guilty as charged.  My regards to Mike. He knows what he’s talking about.   _You_ , on the other hand, better get on it, stat.”

The guy smiles wide and toothy again, his nose crinkling up in amusement.  “I definitely will, now that I have a face to go with the name.”

The way he says it makes Richie’s stomach flip pleasantly.  “We’re a dying medium, so we appreciate your patronage. Tea, on the other hand?  All the rage with the hipsters. You’ve got a bit more job security than me.”

“I hope so.”  The man pulls out a punch card and clips it seven times.  “What kind of tea do _you_ like, Richie?”

“I don’t, to be honest.  Never really been my thing.”

The man smiles.  “Care to have your mind changed?”

“How can I say no to that?  Give it your best shot, Tea Man.”  Richie winks at him.

This has him off and running, asking Richie a series of tea questions-- _caffeine or herbal? Do you like coffee? Sweet or savory? Fruity or earthy?_ \--to lead his tea choices.  He lines the tins up again, just like he did with Richie’s mom’s teas, describing each one.  “If you’d like to sample any of them, I can brew you up a little cup.” He points to a glass serving pitcher with what looks like a small sieve and a set of tiny, porcelain cups, small enough to comfortably hold between your thumb and forefinger.  

“ _Uhhhh._ Let’s do the sweet potato-y one--”

“The Yunnan Golden Needles.  Great choice.”

“--and the Silk Road Spice.”

“I think you’ll really like that one.”

Richie eagerly tries both teas, and even though they're still not really his thing, they’re both actually really fucking tasty.  

He ends up buying them both, along with all the others the guy brought out for him to try--if nothing else, to see him smile that smile again.  Which he does. As he runs Richie’s credit card, he shakes his head. “I’ll have to tell Mike you came in. He’ll lose his shit.” He glances up quickly.  “Sorry.”

“No, no, no.  Don’t censor yourself on my account.  If you listened to my show, you’d know it’s far from clean.”

“ _Oh-kay._ Message received, Richie.”

“I expect a full review the next time I come in,” Richie says, gathering his bags and his receipts and already feeling a little sad that social convention states he’s already overstayed his welcome.  (Other potential customers have also come in since, and he doesn’t want to hold things up.)

“ _Oh-kay_.”  

The guy is so good at pretending he’s annoyed with Richie when he really isn’t.  It’s the most charming thing in the fucking world.

Richie turns back as he’s halfway out the door.  “Give my compliments to…” He angles his neck to peer up at the sign outside.   _Eddie’s Tea._  “Eddie.  He makes a fantastic fucking tea.”

Those light brown eyes eyes positively sparkle.  “I’ll do that.”


End file.
